


Blood of Lions

by Joelcoxriley



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Based on a Dream, Courtly Love, Courtship, Death Before Dishonor, Eventual Romance, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gaspard has a daughter out of wedlock, Gaspard is a trolling dad, Gaspard is a trolling husband, Gaspard likes to embarrass his daughter, Honor, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Nobility, Orlesian Culture and Customs, Orlesians, Political Alliances, Romance, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 12:21:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joelcoxriley/pseuds/Joelcoxriley
Summary: Gaspard de Chalons rules as Emperor of Orlais with a woman he first met on his wedding day as part of an arranged marriage.  Shealynetta de Chalons stands beside him as Empress, for better or worse.  However, the waters of the couple's fairly amiable marriage only becomes more turbulent when a sixteen year old girl arrives, claiming to be the Lion's daughter out of wedlock after the death of her mother.  Gaspard has never fought a battle he could not win with blade and shield.  Being a father, he discovers, is a whole new storm that threatens to destroy his dynasty from within.*A partner/kind of, sort of sequel to Rumor Has It.
Relationships: Gaspard de Chalons/Original Character(s), Gaspard de Chalons/Original Female Character, Gaspard de Chalons/Shealynetta de Chalons, Gaspard de Chalons/Shealynetta de Sauveterre





	Blood of Lions

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a dream. For some reason my subconscious likes pairing Gaspard and Shea together. And giving him a love child, apparently.
> 
> I haven't written anything Dragon Age in a long time, so I'm trying to write short chapters to get in the groove of things.
> 
> If anyone else is interested in Dragon Age works of mine, I have Stories in the Ink, and Stories of the Hearth.
> 
> They're Cole/OC based. But that's all I got.

The Winter Palace was alive with jubilant energy, the ballroom aflame with the heat of delicately twirling and dancing bodies, masked and in sync as if marionettes on display. Every movement of the masked dancers were calculated, and poised, regal and controlled, fluid yet rigid. The elaborate and jeweled heels of the noblewomen clacked in rhythm to the dance of adders' scales rubbing against one another, the soles of the fine and handsome dress shoes of their husbands-their lovers-their suitors-their rivals-scuffing against the cobblestone floor of the spacious ballroom. Each step and twirl and dip being measured, the pregnant air of their union in fangs-the interlocking of their gloved fingers-controlled, yet testing-power, boundaries. A silent, yet constant ebb and flow of power between partners.

Like the flow of the churning ocean tide raging from a storm, a controlled chaos, tugging at the reigns, was barely kept at bay. Barely keeping the writhing beasts at bay, guising as betters with masks and finery of glittering and beguiling jewels. Spoils of inane wealth beyond reason.

The primal savagery of adders, coiled and guised, striking and vibrant, yet dulled by the warm glow of the lights and candles that spread joy and mirth of party.

A ball filled with joyous music, singing bards, finely cooked foods based on elaborate platters, and strong drink.

The twirl of controlled chaos below was deemed too complex for the Empress of Orlais.

Indeed, Shealynetta de Chalons shared the same view towards The Game as her husband.

Foolish.

Everything would be so much more simpler without such pomp and coif.

Alas, things were not so.

"It is quite a grievous day in Orlais when I see your sister charm and allure the men of this court on the dance floor more than the Empress of Orlais, herself." The deep, slow drawl of a man's voice, and the rising offer of rich red wine in a goblet of elaborately crafted glass encrusted with gems came to the woman's attention. Crimson eyes behind elaborate mask narrowed upon the offer held within a gloved hand, the Empress briefly inspecting the gift. Watching the glass mirror dancers and party goers that her eyes could not see. A feminine hand rose and slipped underneath the glass's brim in support-and acceptance of the drink, fingertips brushing against the larger, more calloused ones of her husband's whilst doing so.

"A shame you did not marry the sister with such grace and poise as to wrap even married men around her pretty, little finger, dear husband. A shame, no?" The woman questioned, thin lips stretching upward into a smile, if ever so faintly. The contour of her features that were not hidden by the mask, were almost wooden in nature, as if her face simply was not made for smiling.

A faint snort-perhaps one of amusement-came from the Emperor, armor shining and on display for all to bear witness to his military feats, "A shame, perhaps, that my better half who so fearlessly instills the wrath of the Maker upon politicians and nobility alike-cowers at but the chance of a dance."

Shealyne's thin lips pressed against the cool edge of the glass, taking a slow sip of the sobering wine, crimson eyes briefly looking upon Gaspard's brown. The cup was lowered, before the red head decided to speak, "And my esteemed husband, who so valiantly fought for Maker and country, has been battling off the many a courtesans and fair ladies, no, during my absence and said cowering?"

A laugh, this time, "Shealyne, you flatter me so. I fear my popularity has scarcely improved since Celene's unfortunate demise. Even with the aid of the Inquisition. Besides-I have already found my friends, tonight." Gaspard motioned with a hand towards a small table, various wines and spirits present.

"Oooh, do not drink them all, Gaspard. I would very much like to try them before the eve is over." Never mind that the woman already had a half drunk glass of wine in her hand. One could never have enough in this pompous hell.

"Aaha, a woman after my own heart." A husky chortle that carried the mix of alcohol upon his breath escaped the masked man, "I will keep your request in mind, my dear, if-You give me the honor of one dance." While Gaspard's tone indicated one of jest, the red head was not entirely sure his request was genuine or one of play. Still, the woman chose the latter.

"Furf! No." Came Shealyne's short, brisk-and blunt response, which immediately after, her lips became glued to the glass rim of her drink.

"Oh, my poor, wounded heart. The Lioness of Orlais is quite merciless, is she not? Claws cutting quick and clean, like a sharpened blade fit for battle." Gaspard resumed to drawl, a smile forming under his mask, molding the stubble upon his jaw. Speaking of quick and clean-He needed the quick and clean burn of more wine being guzzled down his throat...

The glass parted from the Empress' lips, wine empty and goblet lowering. A faint snort-the start of a chuckle-escaped her, "My darling husband, I do not rebuff your offer because of _you_ , but of _me_. You know what I am, Gaspard. But I have an even more terrible secret to tell you: I have two left feet."

"Two left feet? What a marriage breaker." Gaspard exclaimed, busying himself in getting another drink.

"I know. Woe is me, Shealynetta de Chalons shall forever be known in Orlesian history as the Empress who could not dance. And could not join her poor Emperor in dances." The woman spoke, though her tone remained fairly monotone, and dry. Both a blessing and a curse, for social ques of dry, sarcastic humor.

"Nonsense, Shealynetta, my dear. You can dance with my more troublesome friends-and assassinate them and make it seem like a dance gone awry." The Emperor added, silently offering to refill the woman's glass.

It was an offer the red head accepted, "Thank you." A smile molded itself upon the woman's pallor features, "But, if you truly wish to dance with me, I suppose I could humor you, Gaspard. Privately. To avoid embarrassing you with my two left feet, of course."

"Do you have stage fright, Shealyne? Ahaa, how endearing of you..." The man's lips peeled back in a grin, teeth shining under a film of saliva. The glass within the woman's hand was refilled. Briefly did the Empress falter.

"Furf! No. I do not have stage fright. I just dislike bringing attention to myself that involves grace in front of others." Shealyne seemed to want to end this topic of conversation, if ever so slightly, as the rim of her glass once more pressed against her thin lips.

"Yet others would argue the fine art of politics involves grace as well."

"As does wielding a blade upon the battlefield." The Empress responded, lips barely parting from the glass rim of her drink, before the goblet was lowered, "But, I shan't burden you with my presence any longer. I am quite sure you want to spend time with your friends, after all, and I do not wish to impede." Shealyne motioned with a hand at the various spirits and wines.

The red head's comment caused the faintest of chuckles to escape Chalons, "As you wish, Shealynetta. Though I fear I will mourn the loss of luster and allure that your company grants me. Alas, I do quite like the idea of you dancing. The Empress of Orlais dancing with the men of the court-but not once with her husband? Ahhaa, scandalous." That would get the court in a tizzy like an enraged beehive, no matter how trivial and petty.

"If I do dance with any a man, I will keep assassination in mind." Shealyne spoke. A brief wink could be seen of one of her blood hued eyes, and the slightest upturn of the corners of her mouth were visible.

"I have no doubt you will, my dear. On a more somber note, be careful traversing the nest of adders, Shealyne. I would be quite displeased if some unfortunate happening befell my wife." Again.

The woman cocked her head, mask tilting, "I am well aware of the danger. Still, you have my thanks. I shall return to you by the end of the eve, I am sure. Sooner, if I become winded or bedraggled from spilled drink. Or become bored and seek finer company."

No sooner had the woman finished speaking, she was already taking her leave for the more turbulent tides of social festivities.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> If you have any thoughts, do let me know. I love reading opinions.
> 
> Stay safe!


End file.
